Safe and Sound
by A-very-supernatural-fan
Summary: Based on season 12 spoilers. Time would only show whether Sam died from blood loss, his infected gunshot wound or something else entirely. Whatever would be the thing that killed him, Sam held onto the hope that he and Dean could somehow find each other again in the Empty. Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean.


**SAFE AND SOUND**

 **Summary:** _Based on season 12 spoilers._ _Time would only show whether Sam died from blood loss, his infected gunshot wound or something else entirely. Whatever would be the thing that killed him, Sam held onto the hope that he and Dean could somehow find each other again in the Empty._ _ **Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean.**_

 **Author's note:** So, I already wrote a story picking up right after season 11 ended but after seeing all the season 12 spoilers, I decided to write another version based on those. I can't wait until the hellatus is over – I miss Supernatural so much!

-Elisa.

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" _Cowards make the best torturers. Cowards understand fear and they can use it."_

\- Mark Lawrence, " _Prince of Thorns_ ".

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It was the dripping sound Sam was first aware of when he woke up. With his eyes remained closed, he could almost believe the sound came from a busted drainpipe or from a leaking tap - could almost pretend that he wasn't feeling the trickle of blood that slowly, but steadily, dripped from his chin and hit the ground somewhere beneath the chair he was chained to.

Sam was hurting. Badly. Just breathing seemed to be a struggle. He tried to lift up his heavy head but even the slightest movement sent excruciating pain through his body, and he had to give up. It was silent around him – except for the sound of his own dripping blood and the wheezing sound of his labored breath – and Sam listened carefully for any signs of his torturers.

The British bitch had left a while ago, leaving Sam alone with her goons whom had helped her drag Sam from the Bunker. As if shooting him hadn't been enough, they'd drugged him, tied him up, gagged him and thrown him into the trunk of a minivan. One of them had at least had the _courtesy_ of wrapping a cloth around the gunshot wound on his thigh so Sam wouldn't bleed out before they had a chance to torture him. The goons were gone for now too at least, giving Sam a little time to gather his thoughts and mentally catalogue his many injuries.

He'd been shot, beaten, shocked, burned, cut, even soaked in icy water. His wrists felt raw and bloody behind his back where Sam had tried, and failed, to twist them free of the chains. He had felt several bones snap in his body during the rough interrogation he'd been put through, and his thigh was on fire from where the bullet had hit him – probably infected, from what Sam could tell.

After what had been done to him in the cage by Lucifer, people might think that being tortured by some British skank and her thugs was just another walk in the park for Sam, but it was not. Even though he'd developed a high pain tolerance over time, pain would always be pain – and the woman of Letters was a very skilled torturer, Sam would give her that. Lady Toni Bevell, as she'd introduced herself as, had spent days torturing Sam for information. While her assistants did the dirty work, Bevell had sat in front of Sam with a pen and a notebook in hand, one leg crossed over the other all nonchalant while questioning him. She'd known worryingly much about the things he and his brother had done over the years – knew about the Apocalypse, the Leviathans and the Darkness, just to name a few, but she hadn't known the details of any of it. Sure, they had made some bad decisions over the years, but Lady Bevell didn't know how much good the brothers had done too and how much they'd sacrificed to save the world over and over again. In the beginning, Sam had tried to defend himself but the British woman didn't believe him so Sam had stopped trying. To her, Sam was simply a threat to the world and needed to be stopped at all costs.

Toni Bevell wanted Sam to spill it all; everything they'd ever done, everything he knew about what his dad had done, what Bobby and every hunter he'd ever known had done. The woman of Letters wanted to know every little detail about Sam's life… but Sam didn't want to share anything with her. It was _his_ life. It had been his _brother's_ life. It was private. Maybe if Lady Bevell hadn't broken into his home and shot him – _maybe_ if she'd asked him politely and not chained him up in a basement - Sam would have _considered_ answering some of her questions. Maybe if Dean had still been alive…

Sam choked on a sob as he thought of his big brother. Dean had sacrificed himself _again_ to save the world; to save Sam and everyone else on the planet - including the bastards who had captured Sam and hurt him ever since. If Dean only knew what they were doing to his little brother… but he didn't. He _couldn't_. Dean would never know. It would have been a lot easier for Sam to fight for his life if Dean had been out there somewhere – if he knew that Dean was turning over every rock and breaking down every door until he'd found Sam.

Dean would rip apart the self-righteous Toni Bevell and her assistants without hesitation.

Dean would rescue Sam from this godforsaken cellar and bring him home.

Dean would patch up every single one of Sam's injuries and not leave his side until he was sure Sam was safe and sound.

Dean would… Dean would…

Sam suddenly realized he was crying – and not because of the physical pain that flared in every inch of his body. Toni Bevell had taunted him repeatedly with the fact that Dean was dead, and that had hurt more than any of the torture they had inflicted on him. Now that Bevell was gone, Sam could finally let his guard down and mourn the brother he'd lost so recently. Sam knew he was a broken man and his will to live was ebbing out second by agonizing second. He knew that Dean would have been angry with him for giving up, but Sam was done fighting. He was too tired and he'd lost too much. He'd lost the only member of his family he'd had left; the one person that mattered more to him than anyone else. Even with Cas somewhere out there, Sam felt all alone in the world without his big brother

He'd tried praying to Cas in the beginning. Whether the trench-coat wearing angel had heard him or not or was out of commission from the banishing sigil Toni Bevell had activated, Sam didn't know. Maybe the cellar was angel proved. Either way, Cas had never shown up. Sam had tried praying to God too which he'd known was a waste of time. God was gone now – thanks to the Darkness whom Sam had released into the world to save his brother. He'd even prayed to Dean as well; had _pleaded_ with his big brother, in his mind, over and over again to help him - to rescue him from this nightmare he'd ended in.

Of course, that had been ridiculous as well. Dean was gone, and you couldn't reach souls in the Empty, now could you? Didn't matter anyway. Billie the Reaper would soon show up and throw Sam into the Empty as she'd done with his big brother. Time would only show whether Sam died from blood loss, his infected gunshot wound or something else entirely. Maybe hunger or dehydration since his captors hadn't given him food at all and only a limited amount of water. Whatever would be the thing that killed him first, Sam held onto the hope that he and Dean could somehow find each other again in the Empty. That was the only thing that mattered.

Sam hissed and sucked in a breath as the pain in his body became too overwhelming, and he was beginning to lose conscious once again. It wouldn't be long now before all of this was over - he could feel it. Sam just wished he'd parked the Impala inside the Bunker's garage instead of outside in the open where anyone could find it. He had promised Dean to take care of his Baby – the car they'd considered their home throughout most of their lives. Who knew what would happen to her now? And to the stuff Sam had left behind in the Bunker. Lady Bevell had had her own key to the place, so that meant that she, and anyone else she let in, could just walk right in and snoop through their stuff. Sam knew that he and Dean hadn't had a lot of personal belongings, but he still couldn't bear the thought of Toni Bevell and the British Men of Letters finding his memory box or looking through the stuff in Dean's room. No, Sam guessed he'd just have to hold on a little longer and hope he, by some miraculous way, could escape this hellhole and stay alive long enough to make sure their stuff and the car ended up elsewhere. Maybe with Cas or Jody. He owed that to Dean – and Sam guessed he owed that to himself as well.

Sam clenched his jaw hard and tried to breathe through the pain. He just needed to hold on a little longer… Just a little bit longer…

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Dean had seriously believed they'd gotten off easy this time. The world was safe yet again, the Darkness gone. He hadn't kicked the bucket after all – neither had his brother or any of their friends – and even Baby had made it through without a scratch. As icing on the cake, Amara even brought back their long-lost mother as a parting gift to Dean. Overall, a total win for once.

However, Mary Winchester hadn't seen her sons since Dean was four and Sam was six months old. She hadn't recognized her oldest when Dean first approached her and, having been a hunter herself, she'd immediately taken Dean down (something Dean swore Sam was never to hear about). It had taken a lot of convincing before his mom finally started believing that Dean was her son – and then she'd been horrified. Not as much of the fact that she'd been dead since 1983 but because her boys had been raised as hunters; a thing Mary never wanted for the two of them.

Although overwhelmed by emotion upon seeing his mother again, more than 30 years had passed, and Dean realized, in an awkward moment, that he didn't really know her anymore. He could only imagine how his mom felt about having lost her little boys and now instead had to deal with two full-grown men in their place. Dean predicted a long and difficult time ahead of them where they had to get to know each other – especially for Sam whom had never really known their mother. As Dean brought their mom back with him to the bunker, he wondered how his little brother would react to seeing her. However, he soon forgot about that as concern for Sam took over. Dean had tried calling his brother several times but the calls had all remained unanswered, as had the calls he'd made to Cas when his brother hadn't picked up. So, it was a worried big brother that finally pulled up the stolen car alongside the Impala and rushed inside the Men of Letters bunker – only to realize that Sam wasn't there.

It hadn't taken Dean long to discover the blood on the floor of the war-room and the smudged angel banishing sigil on the wall. It was obvious that something had gone down in the bunker while Dean had been away and now Sam was missing. A mix of anger and anxiety started spreading inside Dean's chest as he eyed the crimson on the floor. Was it Sam's blood? Had someone hurt his brother – and if so, where was Sam now?

His suspicions had unfortunately soon been confirmed when Cas called him back. The angel, whom had been more than a little surprised to discover Dean was still alive, was temporarily powerless because of the angel-banishing sigil. Before he'd been banished though, Cas had caught a glimpse of a young, blonde woman with a British accent. All signs pointed to the indication that the woman, alone or in cooperation with someone else, had somehow gotten the drop on Sam and was the reason why Sam had disappeared. Dean would never forget the look on his mom's face when Mary saw the blood and heard that Sam was missing. Mary Winchester might have missed almost Sam's entire life but Dean realized that, to her, Sam was still her little baby and in that moment, Dean truly understood the definition of a momma bear. It also turned out that Mary was still a very skilled hunter and, even though she was behind on modern technology, she, Dean and Cas made one hell of a rescue team.

They eventually managed to track Sam down and, when they did, Dean went in to rescue his brother alone while his mom and Cas stayed by the car. If something bad had happened to Sam, Dean didn't want his mom to see it, and he sure didn't want her to see what Dean would do to the sons of bitches that dared touching his brother either. Dean didn't regret his choice as he kicked open the doors of the storm cellar and was met by a sight he knew he'd be losing sleep over later. In the middle of the room, chained to a chair and looking eerily still, was Sam. His little brother was hunched over in the chair, chin to chest, and his brown locks hid his face from view.

Dean suddenly felt terrified. Had he been too late? Had he dodged a bullet with the Darkness and gotten their mom back, only for him to lose Sam – for good this time and before his kid brother even met their mom? Dean couldn't bear the thought of it, and a feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm him.

"Sam...?" Dean called, tucked away his gun and approached his motionless brother cautiously.

 _Don't be dead… Please don't be dead…_

Dean's heart pounded rapidly as he took in the various tools that was displayed on a small table and which had obviously been used to torture Sam. Dean also spotted blood on the floor – some of which still seemed to be dripping from his broken brother. He released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when a weak moan escaped Sam's lips, and Dean was by Sam's side in two strides.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted as he finally reached his brother, shaky hands cupping Sam's face and carefully lifting his head up. "Oh shit… What the hell did they do to you?"

Dean had almost reeled back in shock when his brother's face came into view. Sam's jaw was bruised, and his chin covered in a layer of blood that seemed to emerge from his mouth. His nose was bloody and looked broken, and one eye was black while the other was completely swollen shut. Sam had a long cut above one of his eyebrows and another one on his left cheekbone, which were both leaking blood. It was difficult even finding a spot on his face that wasn't painted in a shade of black and blue. And that was just his face. From the sound of Sam's troubled breathing, Dean guessed Sam had several broken ribs. He also noticed the bloody thigh that had been tied with a bandana, and the (most likely) broken toes on Sam's bare feet. Dean noted numerous cuts and what looked like burn-marks on Sam's arms, and he could barely contain the rush of anger that surged through him because of how brutally beaten his little brother had been.

Sam's wrists were a mess as well. His kid brother had obviously strained his wrists badly in an attempt to get them free; there were deep, bloody lacerations on each one of them and they desperately needed attention. Dean made quick work of picking the lock on the handcuffs that kept Sam chained to the chair. The moment he was free of his bindings Sam slid limply forward, and it was only Dean's quick reflexes that saved Sam from tipping face-first onto the ground.

"Jesus, Sam." Dean groaned in a strained voice as he struggled to hold his brother up.

The change in position had jostled Sam's injuries, making him groan, and Dean once again cupped Sam's face in his hands – desperately willing his brother to wake up.

"Sam." Dean called in a shaky voice. "Come on, little brother. Wakey, wakey."

Dean felt relief wash over him when Sam's eyelashes fluttered slightly. He kept encouraging Sam to awaken and, after a little while, one big, pain-filled eye finally blinked open while the swollen one remained shut.

"Hey." Dean said in a gentle voice, absentmindedly stroking Sam's hair while trying to catch his attention. "Sammy, you with me?"

Sam's head lolled a bit in Dean's grasp until his gaze finally settled on Dean. He looked puzzled for a few moments as he stared at Dean with his one good eye – then gasped as recognition seemed to kick in.

"D'n." Sam slurred, staring at Dean in disbelief.

"In the flesh." Dean said with a ghost of a smile tucking at the corner of his mouth.

"N-no. No." Sam gasped in a voice that sounded both rusty and hoarse – then hissed in pain as he tried to twist his hurting body away from Dean. "You're… You're not real."

"Sam… Sammy, stop." Dean said in an attempt to stop his brother from hurting himself even more. "Stop! Hey, listen to me; I'm real. I'm real, Sam. Okay? You're not imagining this."

"I'm dead then?" Sam whispered, and Dean's heart ached as he shook his head.

"You're not dead and neither am I." He answered. "I'm here to save you – like I always do."

"But you… No… You were dead, Dean." Sam said with a shake of his head, lips trembling. "Billie and… and… the Empty. I-I couldn't…"

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." Dean soothed, gently squeezing the back of Sam's neck to keep his brother grounded. "I didn't die, Sammy. I swear. Amara and God, they worked it out - then I got back to the bunker and you were missing. I've been looking for you ever since with Cas and… and friends. I didn't die. I'm still here. I'm right here, little brother."

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively, as if not truly able to believe that Dean was really Dean.

"Sam." Dean said. "Would anyone else look this good after saving the world for the ten-thousandth time?"

He sent Sam a cocky smile, and that's when Sam finally seemed to give in. As tears welled up in his little brother's eyes, Dean reached around Sam's shaky form and gently pulled him close. Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, desperately clawing at Dean's jacket, and Dean's chin came to a rest on the top of Sam's head while he continued to hold his sobbing brother.

"I'm here now. You're safe." Dean whispered and carded his fingers through Sam's hair. "They won't ever come near you again, I'll make sure of that."

After a little while, Dean reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and called Cas while still holding Sam protectively against his chest. Sam was so badly injured that Dean wouldn't take the risk of moving him from the cellar and transport him back to the bunker in a car. He needed Cas to zap them to the bunker as soon as possible (if not to a hospital) and for his mom to make sure the Impala got home as well. That way, Dean could also make sure that Mary didn't see Sam in his current state – and that Sam wasn't introduced to his mom until he was ready for it either.

It didn't take a lot of seconds before the flutter of wings announced the angel's presence, and he looked between the two brothers with genuine concern in his blue eyes.

"I hope you've still got some juice when we get back to the bunker, Cas." Dean said and tore his eyes away from his brother for a few seconds to exchange a serious look with the angel. "I'm gonna need some help."

Cas nodded his understanding and pushed two fingers to each of the brothers' foreheads.

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Dean finished cleaning the cut on Sam's cheekbone and carefully applied a butterfly bandage to keep the wound closed. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and then pulled the blanket up to Sam's chin, before he packed away the first-aid kit and the different supplies he'd used to patch up his brother.

The damages to Sam's body had been extensive. Among all the other injuries he had found, Dean had also discovered a gunshot wound underneath the bandana on Sam's thigh. The wound hadn't just been infected but had reached the state of gangrene too, and Sam would have lost his entire leg if Cas hadn't been there to heal it. The angel had used his mojo on the worst of Sam's injuries but, since Cas hadn't been at full power after the angel banishing incident, he hadn't been able to heal all of Sam's wounds. Dean, however, hadn't minded taking care of the rest of Sam's injuries. He'd actually, in some weird way, kinda welcomed it. After having searched for his missing brother for days and having found Sam in such a dire state, Dean had needed to care for Sam to even be able to function himself. Sam was now laid up in his bed in the bunker, drugged on some of the good stuff and peacefully resting while he healed up.

It hadn't been easy keeping his mother away though. Mary had all but stormed into the bunker and demanded to see her youngest son, but Cas had managed to keep her at bay until Dean could finish patching Sam up. As Dean cleaned away the last of the medical supplies, he _felt_ rather than saw his mom's presence outside the open door to Sam's room.

"You can come in, Mom. He's resting." Dean said in a low voice.

His mother stepped inside and hesitantly walked to the side of the bed before peeking at her youngest. Dean watched from the corner of his eyes as Mary carefully touched Sam's cheek with the tip of her fingers.

"He was just a baby the last time I saw him." His mom said and Dean nodded.

"I know." He replied in soft voice – once again reminded of the fact that it would take time for them to really get to know each other after having been apart for so many years.

Mary brushed back a lock of Sam's hair in a tender way, and Dean swallowed around the lump he suddenly felt in his throat. Only he had ever been that affectionate with his brother (his dad had been a little more rough around the edges and had shown affection in a different way), so it almost felt weird seeing someone else – even their mother – treat Sam the way Dean treated his brother. He would have to get used to that as well; to share his brother with his mom and no longer be the only part of the family Sam had left. It wouldn't change anything though. Dean knew that, if he had to choose, he would always put Sam before anything and anyone else – as would Sam with him.

"Dean, you think… You think he might like some tomato-rice soup?" His mom asked while still looking at Sam - effectively breaking Dean's trail of thoughts.

"I think he'd love that." Dean sincerely said.

His mom turned her head to look at Dean and sent him a watery smile.

"I'll make it for the both of you then." She said before exiting the room – leaving Dean alone again with his resting brother.

Dean rubbed his burning eyes and let out a sigh, suddenly feeling extremely exhausted. He sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and studied Sam's peaceful face, while making sure his brother was still tucked in properly.

"I'm gonna find the bastards that did this to you, Sammy." Dean promised his sleeping brother. "And when I do, I'll make sure they regret the day they decided to mess with my little brother."

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 **THE END**


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